


A Dance Is A Way To Step Towards You

by Serie11



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dancing, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Marihilda Week (Fire Emblem), Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), School Dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22290406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: When Byleth asks Marianne to represent their class in the White Heron Cup, Marianne needs to find a someone who can actually teach her to dance.Luckily, Hilda is around and willing to lend her a hand.Marihilda week day six:Dance|Confession|Tears
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	A Dance Is A Way To Step Towards You

“What do you think, Marianne? Excited for the ball?”

Marianne ducks her head, but Hilda’s question has drawn the attention of her classmates to her. Well, the classmates that are lingering after today’s lessons. Claude has already run off to the library, and Raphael and Leonie have left, probably to go to the dining hall. Still, that leaves Hilda, Lysithea, Lorenz and Ignatz to peer at her and wait for her answer.

“I don’t know how to dance very well,” Marianne says quietly.

“Pff, that shouldn’t deter you! The ball is about having fun. I’m sure that the prince and princess are going to take things awfully seriously, but that shouldn’t stop us from having a great time.”

“I’ve never been to a ball before,” Ignatz says, pushing his glasses up to rest more solidly on his nose. “Though I do know how to dance. My mother made me take dancing lessons when I was younger, just in case we were ever invited to an occasion like this and we had to dance. She wanted me to make a good impression on any potential clients.”

“Dancing is one of the finer points of nobility,” Lorenz sniffs. “So of course I know how to dance. It will be my pleasure on the night to ensure that all ladies of fair standing have a wonderful time dancing with me.”

“It all sounds a bit boring,” Lysithea says. “I’ll probably stay for dinner and then go back to my room to study.”

“Lysithea!” Hilda says, scandalised. “You can’t do that! You only come here for one year, and this is your one chance to make sure that you experience it all.” A sly look comes into her eyes. “You’re here to make connections, aren’t you? The ball is a great time to network. I know you haven’t made friends with a lot of the other students.”

Lysithea frowns. Marianne gathers up her notes for the day’s lesson and quietly leaves them all to argue it out among themselves. Even if some people think the ball will be a good time to party, she doesn’t think she agrees.

Dancing in front of everyone, with everyone’s eyes fixed on her? That sounds horrible. She doesn’t think she’ll attend. After all, no one will miss her.

* * *

It feels like people are talking about nothing but the ball, and the White Heron Cup that will be given out a week before. Marianne stays in the cathedral where the murmur of people is quiet and prays, the words familiar enough that she can think of other things while she says them.

It’s nearing the end of the year, and the end of the school year as well. She’d been hesitant about attending the Academy at first, but her adoptive father had insisted, and she never argued with him. In the time that she’d been here, she’s grown. The others in her class have as well, and more obviously, but Marianne knows that her faith and her magic is more potent than they have ever been. She has been successful in hiding her Crest from everyone, which is what she’d been most worried about at the start of the year. She remembers arriving at the Academy and hiding in her room, near on the verge of throwing up because she’d been so anxious that someone would just look at her and know. She almost feels secure in her secret now – she isn’t going to be telling anyone, and no one else has figured it out, even though Linhardt’s clinical gaze has come close.

“Marianne,” a quiet voice says, and she turns to find her professor coming to stand beside her. Byleth’s dark hair seems to absorb some of the light, but surely she’s imagining the twinkles around their head.

“Hello professor,” Marianne greets them. “Enjoying your day off?”

“I am,” Byleth nods. “I spent some time fishing in the lake, and feeding the cats with some of my catches. Catherine says it’s a waste of the monastery’s resources, but I think the cats have to eat too.”

“They do,” Marianne agrees. She’s secreted her own food out to feed them before, and it makes her feel better that Byleth is feeding them as well. She had worried about what would happen to them after she left, but if Byleth is feeding them as well, then maybe others in the monastery do as well.

“I told her that since I caught the fish, I could do whatever I wanted with them.” They turn to her. “I came and found you because I want to ask a favour.”

“Oh?” Marianne asks. She doesn’t know what Byleth could possibly want from her, but if she can do it then she will. Byleth is so patient and understanding, and Marianne feels like she can truly talk to them.

“I would like you to represent the Golden Deer in the White Heron cup,” Byleth says, and if Marianne had been holding anything she would have dropped it. She squeezes her hands together to try and calm her initial alarm.

“M-me? Why would you choose me? I don’t know how to dance. I wouldn’t be a good representative for the class. You should choose someone else.”

“I’ve talked to Manuela, and a dancer needs to excel in the sword, which narrows down the options from our class. They also need to have a solid grasp on magic, and be able to charm the audience. You have a lovely smile, Marianne. I believe that you’re the best choice to represent us from our class.”

Marianne struggles with that for several seconds. Yes, she fulfils the technical requirements, but she doesn’t know about her smile. That, and there’s the fact that she’s never had a dance lesson in her life. Most nobility took dance lessons when they are young, and Marianne had already passed that age by the time she came to live with her adoptive father.

“Thank you for choosing me,” Marianne says. “But I really don’t know how to dance.”

Byleth puzzles over that for several seconds. Marianne hopes that means they will reconsider, and choose Lysithea or maybe Ignatz instead.

“I’ll find you a dance teacher,” Byleth promises instead, and Marianne feels her stomach drop. “And I promise that if you do lose, which I’m sure you won’t, I will take full responsibility for not listening to you here. Will you promise to try?”

Byleth looks at her imploringly, and Marianne can’t say no to them. “I promise to try,” she says, and immediately regrets it. Why is she agreeing to this? Byleth looks satisfied, so even though she wants to ask them to reconsider, the words are trapped in her throat, unable to go any further.

“Good,” Byleth says. “I’m glad to hear that. Let me worry about organising a tutor for you.”

“Okay,” Marianne murmurs. Byleth heads off, and Marianne stands still, feeling a rock settle in her gut. Surely, this has to be the worst case scenario for her. Just dancing at the ball would have been bad enough, but actually competing in the White Heron Cup? Where the purpose is to be judged on her performance?

She’ll probably embarrass herself by tripping over her own feet on the day. Marianne covers her face with one hand before starting a new prayer. Maybe if she asks the Goddess for guidance and protection, she’ll be able to remember the next few weeks without shame.

* * *

Marianne isn’t formally assigned to help with stable duties like Lorenz and Leonie are, but she has nothing else to do after lessons and being around the horses calms her. It’s her own way of giving back to them, since she feels bad just taking advantage of their kindness.

She’s running a curry comb over Blackfoot (she thinks Sylvain rides him) when someone clears their throat at the stable door. Marianne jumps slightly, and Blackfoot turns to her, blowing air over her to express his concern.

Marianne turns to find Hilda leaning against the stable door, looking at Blackfoot with something akin to confusion on her face.

“Do you really spend every afternoon here?” Hilda asks. “It’s bad enough when the professor asks me and Claude to do the evening skywatch patrol. I’m glad they’ve never asked me to clear out the stables.” She shivers.

“I like horses,” Marianne says, a touch defensively. Hilda knows everyone’s hobbies – she should know at least that much about Marianne. Unless she doesn’t think that Marianne is worth knowing about. Marianne shrinks slightly and doesn’t say anything else. If Hilda wants to look down on her, she isn’t going to give her anything else to pick at to try and get under her skin.

“I know that you like horses,” Hilda says, rolling her eyes slightly. “Come on Marianne, by now every single person in the monastery must know that you like animals. They’re like, the only thing you ever talk about. And you don’t talk often.”

Hilda switches her evaluating stare from Blackfoot to Marianne. Marianne tries not to move under the weight of that stare, as if that will hide her from Hilda’s considering gaze.

“Is there something you needed?” Marianne asks, in the hope that Hilda will either get to why she came here, or move on. Marianne needs to groom another three horses before dinner.

“Yeah,” Hilda says, drawn out of her thoughts. “The professor told me that they want you to be our rep in the White Heron Cup! And also that you don’t know how to dance. Now, those two facts are a little wonky to me, but our dear professor won’t budge on their choice. So I’m here to teach you!”

Marianne blinks rapidly. Hilda isn’t the person she expected, but it does make sense. Marianne is sure that Hilda is probably the most practised dancer in their class, since she loves recounting all the balls she’s been to in the past. And Marianne likes Hilda, as much as she likes anyone besides Byleth. Even though Hilda doesn’t like horses.

“Thank you for agreeing to teach me,” Marianne says, because she has to say something. “I’m not sure why the professor chose me, but I would like to not embarrass myself or our class in front of the whole Academy.”

“Right,” Hilda says, as if only just remembering that Marianne is going to be dancing in front of everyone. “You know, if you’d said last week that you didn’t know how to dance, I would have offered to teach you anyway.”

“You would have? Why?”

Hilda frowns slightly at her bewildered tone. “Everyone should know how to dance,” she says authoritatively. “Especially nobles. You never know when something important can be decided by a quick waltz across the dance floor!”

Marianne stares at her. Hilda’s face slowly becomes more pinched.

“Are you free right now?” Hilda asks.

“I have to finish grooming Blackfoot,” Marianne says. “And then I need to groom Deacon, Gilly, and Sierra as well.”

“Oh,” Hilda says. “I thought Leonie and Lorenz are helping out with stable duties?”

“They are,” Marianne confirms. “But I like to help them out. They’re grooming the rest of this wing of the stables.”

“Okay,” Hilda says. She vanishes, and Marianne considers the empty air where she’d been standing a minute ago before turning back to Blackfoot. Blackfoot whickers gently, and Marianne smiles at his concern.

“It’s okay,” she tells him. “Hilda is nice. It’s just that sometimes she doesn’t take the time to see things how other people see them. Or if she does, it’s just so she can more effectively manipulate them into doing things for her. It’s lovely of her to help me. She must be good at dancing.”

_If you’d said last week that you didn’t know how to dance, I would have offered to teach you anyway._

Marianne keeps brushing, thinking over her words. Were they just because Hilda likes to teach? Or is it really because she thinks that all nobles should know how to dance? If Marianne let her know that she’s just adopted and she doesn’t know if she really will inherit, she wonders if Hilda would still be so insistent on being able to teach her.

She finishes tending to Blackfoot and spends another few minutes just patting his nose and telling him how well behaved he is. When she leaves his stall, Hilda is coming down the aisle towards her. Her face brightens when she sees Marianne.

“Marianne!” she calls. Marianne pauses, but Hilda sweeps by her, catching Marianne’s arm with her own so that Marianne twirls on the spot to follow Hilda, almost falling over her own feet in the process. Hilda winces slightly as Marianne shoots her a betrayed look.

“I need to work on the other horses,” Marianne repeats to her.

“Don’t worry, I made sure that Lorenz and Leonie know that you had to come and practise with me so they’re going to take care of the horses,” Hilda says. “So I was thinking, we need a space that’s quiet and has enough room to move, but if you’re learning for the first time you don’t want eyes on you, but also we need a little tune to keep the time –”

“Y-you didn’t ask anyone else to come and help us, did you?” Marianne squeaks. Hilda is right – she doesn’t want an audience.

“I asked around, and the professor gave me this thingy!” Hilda says, digging something out of her pocket. It’s a metronome. Marianne lets out a sigh of relief. “They say we can keep the beat with this. I tried it and it’s a little boring instead of real music, but it’ll have to do. Anyway, like I was saying, I think we should go back to our classroom. If we move a few of the desks, that will work just fine.”

“But the doors are open…” Marianne feels the need to point out.

“We can close them,” Hilda reassures her.

When they reach the Golden Deer classroom, Hilda drags the enormous doors shut while Marianne moves some of the tables to the side. Hilda sets up the metronome on the professor’s desk, and then turns to Marianne, who is nervously clasping her hands together in the position she usually stands in when she prays.

“There are a few dances that everyone should know, but we’ll start with an easy one,” Hilda says. “It’s a bit faster than some others, but because it’s faster people don’t notice as much if you miss a step, while they do when you’re slow dancing.” Hilda pulls Marianne to the centre of the spare space, and puts one of Marianne’s hands on her shoulder. “Now, normally when a man and a woman dance together the man leads.” Hilda settles a hand on Marianne’s waist, and the sudden touch takes Marianne by surprise. She takes a breath to settle herself, and hopes that she isn’t blushing already. “Since you’re new to this, I’ll lead to show you how it’s done, okay?”

“Okay,” Marianne says meekly. Hilda takes her other hand, stretching both their arms out in front of them.

“So this dance is meant to be done with multiple partners, switching every sixteen beats. This is the first position that you’ll assume, when you move to the next partner, so we should start with that. Now we take two steps forward, starting with your right foot, and then two steps back, starting with your left foot.”

Hilda shows her the steps, apparently ignoring the ticking metronome in the background, and Marianne follows her, staring down at her feet the whole time. Hilda repeats the steps again, and Marianne steps in time with her, confidence growing slightly. This isn’t too bad. She can do this.

“Okay, now we let go with one the hand on your partner’s body, and I’ll spin you,” Hilda says.

“Spin?” Marianne asks.

“Spin,” Hilda confirms. She lets go and lifts their joined hands above Marianne’s head. Marianne turns on the spot, but that means their arms turn awkwardly. She frowns at Hilda.

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“You have to let go a little, so that your hand is balanced in your partner’s hand, but also so that you can turn in place. There is a type of spin where you keep your hands locked but this isn’t that.” Hilda frowns at her. “You’ve really never been taught how to dance?”

Marianne shakes her head.

Hilda purses her mouth. “Okay. Well, let’s try the spin again.”

It takes them another few attempts before Marianne spins. She’s starting to feel a little dizzy, but Hilda nods. Hilda’s approval lightens the knot in Marianne’s chest.

“Nice job! You’re picking it up pretty fast. Okay, after the spin, you step out, then step in again, like this.” Hilda demonstrates. “Then we turn around while going back to the first position again.”

By the time she’s learned the first dance and completed it several times to Hilda’s approval, Marianne feels exhausted. It must be time for dinner, and yet Hilda doesn’t seem ready to let her go.

“See, I told you this wasn’t that hard,” Hilda encourages her. “One more time, to the beat?”

Marianne makes a mistake on the second spin and messes up her steps in the switch portion of the dance, but Hilda just smiles at her instead of saying something mean. She hasn’t said anything mean in the entire time they’ve been here, actually. Marianne knows that Hilda has a wicked sharp tongue on her when the occasion suits, so not being subject to it is nice.

“Okay, that should be enough for today,” Hilda says, after they step through the routine another time. “I’m starving! Do you want to go get dinner?” She stills the metronome and puts it in her pocket.

“We have to put the classroom back together,” Marianne points out.

Hilda’s face falls. “Ugh, we do. You get the desks, and I’ll open the doors again.”

Marianne has no objections to that, since the doors are massive and she has no idea how Hilda even closed them in the first place. She keeps an eye on her as she moves the first desk. Hilda had taken her overcoat off, so Marianne can see how the muscles in her arms flex as she pulls open the door.

She jerks her gaze away, staring at the desks as she moves them instead. It shouldn’t matter what Hilda’s arms look like. She’d never be interested in someone like Marianne, even though she’s taking pity on her and teaching her how to dance. Marianne places the desk down and wrestles with herself.

Hilda drags the last desk into place, despite being able to easily pick it up. Marianne can’t bring herself to look at her.

“Okay, now it’s time for food,” Hilda says cheerfully. Marianne can only nod and follow along behind her, wishing for this all to be over.

* * *

The day of the White Heron Cup approaches far more quickly than Marianne would like. Hilda insists on practising after lessons every day, only giving Marianne a break on Sundays. Marianne can now confidently step through all four dances that Hilda insisted that she learn, but she’s having trouble with some of the other aspects that Hilda is now instructing her in.

“Head up,” Hilda reminds her. They’re waltzing, because apparently this dance is done with a consistent partner and slow enough that conversation is expected. Marianne thinks this is the dance she likes the least.

“I feel like I’m going to trip if I don’t watch my feet,” Marianne explains.

“That’s why you have to look up,” Hilda says stubbornly. “If you keep looking at your feet, you’re definitely going to trip. If you’re looking up and nothing bad happens, then slowly you figure out that you don’t need to look at your feet to keep your balance. So chin up!”

Marianne stubbornly sets her jaw, but she lifts her chin. They’re just waltzing in a circle, and she’s stepped over these same stones in the classroom a hundred times in the last week, so there’s no secret edge that she’s going to catch. She has tripped a few times, but that’s always been because of her own clumsiness.

“Okay, good,” Hilda praises her. Marianne lets the praise settle on her shoulders. “Now what are we going to talk about?”

“I’m going to be performing by myself at the White Heron Cup,” Marianne points out.

“Yes, yes, but this is for after,” Hilda replies. “You carry the Edmund name! You have to represent your territory well when you’re in a ballroom, because that can affect how people deal with you in other areas!”

Marianne swallows. “Have you completed the assignment that’s due tomorrow?” she tries.

Hilda scowls at her. “No, and that’s a bad topic of conversation. How are you going to relate to someone when you’ve never met them before?”

“Why would I be dancing with someone when I’ve never met them before?” Marianne asks, confused.

Hilda sighs. “Here, I’ll try. Good evening, Marianne. Such a gorgeous party put on by our hosts, don’t you think? I love your dress, it really brings out your eyes.”

Marianne raises her eyebrows at Hilda. She’s wearing the same dress she wears every day.

“Shush, pretend we’re somewhere glamorous,” Hilda scolds her. She clears her throat. “What do you think of the wine that’s been put out? Personally I prefer an 1160 Daphnel red, but I have to admit that the wine out honoured hosts have presented is quite lovely as well.”

Marianne stares at her as they continue dancing around the classroom.

Hilda stares back. “Now is when you return the compliment to the hosts, compliment my taste in wine if you’re hoping to get on my good side, or say you prefer another year of Daphnel wine if you’re not. Then you give your own opinion, and depending on if I want to compliment you or not, I’ll tell you that you have good taste.”

“I don’t drink wine,” Marianne says.

“You’re impossible,” Hilda groans. “Another topic you could talk about is to ask who tailored my dress, so I can gush about them. Or you can tell me that I dance well, and I can talk about my dance performances in the past.”

Marianne lowers her eyes, only to look at the ceiling instead when Hilda clears her throat pointedly. “I’m not very good at talking to people.”

“I know,” Hilda says. “That’s another thing I’m trying to help you with. If you learn a few conversation starters, then you can lead with those, and get your dancing partner to do most of the talking. If I’m talking about how great I was when I danced two years ago at the Derdriu winter festival, then all you need to do is laugh at the right places and nod at the right places, and you don’t need to say anything.”

“Oh,” Marianne says, thinking it over. It does make sense. “And if I say something, then the other person won’t ask me a question, so I won’t have to talk about myself?”

“Exactly,” Hilda agrees. “Plus, people love to talk about themselves. If you ask them the right questions, then they’ll love you for it, especially if you make sure to add a little compliment in there somewhere. If you keep your head up and your eyes on them, it will make you look like you’re hanging onto their every word. That will make you a great dance partner!”

Marianne looks at Hilda. It’s no longer strange to have her hand on her shoulder, to have Hilda’s hand clasped within her own. Marianne doesn’t think she’s ever been this physically close to someone before, and never for such a long period of time.

“Thank you for teaching me how to dance, Hilda,” Marianne says. “You’re very good at it. I feel a lot more confident now, and I’m not too scared to be going out and performing in front of everyone tomorrow at the Cup. I appreciate the time that you’ve spent with me.”

“Ah,” Hilda says, a touch of pink colouring her cheeks. “It’s the least I could do. I think that everyone should know how to dance. Have you had fun learning?”

Marianne doesn’t know if she had fun learning, but she had fun hanging out with Hilda. When she says so, Hilda laughs.

“Aw, you’re so cute. As long as you win tomorrow, I’ll consider it time well spent!”

No pressure, Marianne thinks. But she gives Hilda a tiny smile, and Hilda swoons excessively over it, and Marianne tries to ignore the tiny burning flame in her chest that grows hotter every time Hilda looks at her.

* * *

She wins the White Heron Cup.

After the contest, Marianne is swept away by the Golden Deer, who are all cheering their victory loudly. She feels lightheaded, almost – surely she shouldn’t have won, surely Edelgard or Felix would have been the better choice. But Manuela and Alois had voted for her, and she had won. _She had won._

Byleth pulls her away from the others for a quiet chat an hour or so later. Marianne looks back at all of them, who are in the middle of dinner and are the loudest table in the dining hall, and then back to Byleth.

“I’m proud of you,” Byleth says, nodding slightly. “I told you that I thought you could succeed.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” Marianne says.

“Hilda’s lessons helped?” Byleth asks.

“Yes.” She had imagined Hilda opposite her when she’d danced in front of the judges, echoing her every step with the proper answer. She’d smiled at the imaginary Hilda she’d been dancing with, and had heard the crowd sigh.

Byleth nods. “I’ll consult with Manuela about the appropriate next steps, and tell you as soon as I know when and where the training is. Until then, enjoy the celebrations.”

Byleth releases her back to the crowd of her fellow students. Lorenz has taken the spot she’d been occupying between Leonie and Ignatz, so Marianne squeezes into a seat next to Hilda instead.

“There you are!” Hilda says happily. She holds out a cup and Marianne sniffs the contents warily. “Here, another lesson from little old me. Learning to like wine!”

“Learning to like…?” Marianne says warily. Hilda motions for her to drink. Marianne sniffs the cup again. It doesn’t smell nice, but she knows that a lot of people drink wine, so it can’t be that bad.

She takes a gulp and immediately regrets it.

“Hilda!” Claude cries from across the table. “What are you doing to my winner?”

“She’s not your winner, I trained her so she’s my winner,” Hilda rebuts him, taking Marianne’s cup back so she doesn’t spill the contents while she half chokes on the wine.

“What is that?” Marianne gasps.

“Like I said,” Hilda repeats. “Learning to like wine. Tip one, take smaller sips.”

Marianne finishes half of her cup by the time everyone is finished with their food, and slowly the party disperses. Leonie leaves first, but Claude and Lysithea aren’t far behind her. Marianne gets up, intending to head to the stables to talk to the horses and clear her head before seeking her bed, but Hilda attaches herself to her and she can’t shake her off, even if she wanted to. Hilda’s arm is heavy over her shoulders as they leave the dining hall, and the warm spark in Marianne’s chest seems to have been stoked into a merrily burning hearth fire by the wine.

They stop in the green area just outside the three classrooms, and Hilda turns in Marianne’s arms. Marianne automatically goes to hold her hand, and Hilda giggles as they start waltzing in a circle. They don’t need the metronome anymore to keep the time anymore.

“You were amazing out there Mari, you made me so proud,” Hilda says. “You really blew past all my expectations! The professor was right to choose you. You’re a natural.”

Marianne doesn’t need a mirror to know that she’s flushed. She hopes that Hilda will just attribute it to the wine. “Thank you. I’ve… begun to enjoy dancing.” With one partner in particular.

Hilda grins at her, and Marianne can feel her pulse in her throat. Hilda is so beautiful, and Marianne shouldn’t be here. Hilda deserves more than her.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Hilda says. She lets go of Marianne’s hand, and Marianne goes to step away, disappointed, but then Hilda throws her arms around her neck. Marianne almost stumbles before her instincts kick in. “Here’s a dance I didn’t teach you before,” Hilda says, still smiling. “I put my arms over your shoulders. You can hold my waist.”

Marianne settles her hands on Hilda’s waist gingerly. It almost feels like they’re hugging, and Hilda’s face is so close that it’s all she can see.

“When do you dance like this?” Marianne asks, because she can’t think of anything else to say.

Hilda looks at her for a long few moments. “Usually, you dance like this with someone you have feelings for.”

“Excuse me?” Marianne squeaks.

Hilda’s expression wavers slightly. “You heard me, Mari. I like you.” She lifts a hand slightly and twirls some of Marianne’s hair around her finger. Marianne can hardly think with Hilda so close. Hilda tilts her head. “I’m pretty sure I already know the answer, but still. Do you like me too?”

Marianne’s pulse is like a bird’s fluttering wings. She’d dreamed of something like this happening – but it was supposed to stay in her dreams. With Hilda actually asking her, she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say.

“Mari?” Hilda asks.

“Yes,” Marianne says breathily. “I do like you, Hilda.”

Hilda’s face creases into a joyful smile. “Well, I feel like we should do something about our mutual attraction. Here’s the next step to this dance.”

Hilda leans in, and Marianne’s eyes flutter shut as their lips connect.

Maybe dancing isn’t so bad, after all.


End file.
